


call it what you want, call me anything you want

by cm (mumblemutter)



Series: down there in the dark [4]
Category: Thor (Comics), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Age Play, Blood, Community: kink_bingo, Death References, Faux Medieval Nonsense, Gender Play, In Public, Incest, Menstruation Kink, Other, Porn, Roleplay, Worship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-05-19
Packaged: 2017-11-28 21:18:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/678988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mumblemutter/pseuds/cm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thor and Loki and the games they play.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Once upon a time there was a dear little girl

The third day, they leave the cave. They should return to Asgard, but Thor does not want Heimdall to see him in such a state. For surely he will tell Odin, and Odin will express his displeasure: at Loki for his trickery, and at Thor for even tolerating it for longer than a moment.

"There is a village nearby," Loki informs him, as he leads Thor down a weaving mountain path. It strikes Thor as odd that Loki, who despises Midgard so much, is so familiar with this land.

"We could have just stayed in the cave."

"I am hungry," Loki replies shortly. "And I would like a bed that does not stink of dead animal." Loki has shed his usual attire for Midgardian garb, and can almost pass for a simple huntsman, if one does not peer close enough to notice that there is nary a speck of dirt upon it. The same cannot be said for Thor. His arms and legs are streaked with dirt where they aren't covered by cloth. Whatever little there is; Thor would swear his skirt was longer previously, and his vest less flimsy.

It is very possible that each time Thor entreats Loki to return him back to his old form he shrinks Thor's coverings.

They encounter the huntsmen halfway down the path. Four of them, burly men all, but with a tired, hungry look upon their faces. Thor takes appraisal of their their weapons, determines them as no threat. There is a strange, deferential tone to Loki's voice though, when he calls out, "Would you be so kind as to direct us to the village. We appear to be lost."

One of the men spits. "You are not from around here," he says, with the suspicious glare of someone not fond of strangers. His demeanor changes when Thor steps out of Loki's shadow. He must not have been visible to them yet, not with this height. "And what do we have here? Aren't you a sweet little slice. She yours?"

"She -" Loki sounds amused. "In a manner of speaking, I suppose."

Another man pipes up, this one taller and thinner, and Thor has only been stared at in such a manner by ravenous beasts seeing him as a meal, "We will trade you directions for her. Or even just an hour."

"Tempting," Loki replies. "But no. Surely she is worth that deer I see you have dragging behind you."

"She's too scrawny. Barely even a woman - has she bled yet? We'd give you a rabbit, maybe two."

Thor has had enough. He surges in front of Loki, shooting him an unimpressed glare as he does so. "Have care how you speak," he says, brandishing Mjolnir.

The burst of laughter from all four of them is unexpected.

"Look, the child has a hammer. Imagines she's some kind of a warrior, eh?"

"More like a warrior's spoils, from the looks of it," another one says. "A cowardly one at that." Thor looks behind him, and Loki has vanished. He frowns, and turns his gaze upwards, to the sight of Loki perched up in the branches of a tree, grinning madly. He offers Thor a cheerful wave. "It's all right, sweetheart, we'll take care of you. Won't we, lads."

They are spreading out around him, in a broad circle.

Thor smiles.

He is not half as strong as he used to be, this he realizes swiftly, as a mere push lands him face down in the dirt. The body is wrong, and he cannot even rely on his muscles remembering how to fight; so many years of training and battle that even the most ferocious of opponents should be barely a test.

These are only men.

It's a challenge that pumps his heart full of blood and puts a smile on his face, until a hard swipe at the side of his face puts him on his back, a body heavy and foul between his open knees. He laughs, and then he stops. A strike with his forehead sends the man reeling back clutching at his nose, and by this point Thor is tired of the fight. They are not afraid of him: it gives them confidence, but it also makes them careless. He rises to his feet, raises Mjolnir to the sky, the call to battle the same as it has always been, the sweet sound of thunder in his ears.

"I fear we have not yet been properly introduced. I am Thor."

The men start laughing once again, and Thor is momentarily distracted by Loki joining them, a low whisper in their ears: _Fancies herself a God, eh?_ A blunt force hits him from behind, and he finds himself staggering, almost tripping over the raised root of a tree.

"Enough," Thor snarls. "You will learn respect."

Loki only jumps down from his perch when it's over, cackling gleefully. "That was fun. I had some worry for a moment."

"Some assistance might have been useful."

"Since when have you required help." He shakes his head in disappointment. "Should have finished them. Or have you gone soft, sister? They say women are given to a bigger heart."

"They were only men." They had run off into the forest, wounded in both body and pride. It was enough.

"They would have defiled you, sister." There is an unhappy edge to his voice.

"Do not call me that."

"Does the novelty wear thin," Loki says. "And so soon, as well."

Thor does not deign to respond, goes instead to fetch Mjolnir, hurled somewhere into the trees in his rage. Loki, who cannot bear to be ignored, takes Thor by the arm as he passes by and pins him to a tree. Thor allows it because he is exhausted, because the fight has drained more energy out of him than it should have. "What have you done to me," he asks, as Loki lifts him up, wraps his legs around his waist.

"Must you keep asking the same questions," Loki says, as he licks his fingers and presses them briefly to Thor's cunt. Cold, and it is strange how easily Thor has gotten used to this: it has barely been two days. He hears rather than sees Loki rustling with his trousers, before he slides into Thor with one sharp thrust.

Thor wavers between throwing Loki off and breathing through the pain until it settles, decides on the latter when Loki kisses his cheek, bracing his free arm against the tree and sighing into Thor's hair.

"I remember," he says, "how all the girls used to titter about you. How your hair was so soft and golden, as if it had been dipped in sun. Only Sif's rivaled yours, until I changed that."

"You did not do it for me," Thor says, wincing as his body rises from the force of Loki's thrusts, back scraping against the rough bark of the tree. The pain has receded somewhat, pleasure trickling upwards in a leisurely manner that does not seem remotely close to reaching any sort of peak. Is this the norm?

Loki might well know, but Thor will not ask, not while Loki laughs in the crook of Thor's throat as he replies, "No, I did it for me. For the look on her face. It is my only regret that the dark suited her in the end."

He curls his fingers into Loki's hair, yanks his head back and uses the momentum of Loki's backward jerk to push himself away from the tree. They both stumble, and perhaps he might find this body sufficient after all: it is lithe and easily bent, and with a cry he propels them both onto the ground. The earth shakes, and startled animals scurry away into darkness.

Loki snarls his displeasure, but Thor sinks down on him and squeezes his thighs against his sides until he stills, his eyes darkening. "Well, go on then," Loki says, as Thor blinks in sudden uncertainty. He unclenches his fists from Loki's lapels and bends down instead, hair falling forward to halo them both.

Loki tolerates the press of Thor's lips against his for merely a moment before he is surging upwards, sitting up and twisting both of Thor's wrists behind his back in one smooth motion, holding him still. They struggle for a bit, and it is Thor who ends up pinned on the ground as Loki's body heaves on top of him. Thor calls Mjolnir, stretches his hand out and it comes, still dripping blood from earlier.

Loki turns his head as it returns to Thor's hand, returns home, and remarks mildly, "That is not fair. You don't see me using magic. Put it down."

Loki rocks slowly against Thor, his cock jutting hard between them and eliciting an involuntary whimper. But he does not put Mjolnir down. He asks instead, again, "What did you do?"

Loki heaves a sigh. "Does physical weakness bother you so much you must keep whining about it constantly?"

"It does when you leave me to fend for myself against men who would do me harm."

"As if you did not enjoy the challenge." Loki's hand slips under Thor's vest, finds a breast to cup. Thor shivers as a thumb brushes across his nipple, and Loki murmurs, "Put the hammer down, Thor. I will give you want you want."

"You have not been able to yet. I start to question your capability."

Loki narrows his eyes. "That is a challenge, I believe." In an instant, he has hauled Thor into the air and rushed him up against the tree, this time high enough that Thor only sees the top of his head before it disappears under his skirt.

Loki's tongue is cool and quick, and Thor finds himself scrambling for purchase against the bark of the tree as the pleasure heightens, blotting out almost all other thoughts.

He drops Mjolnir, barely hears the thud as it hits the ground. "Loki," he bursts out, quite despite himself, and bends over Loki's head, sliding his other leg down his shoulder as well. He feels as limp as a rag doll, buffered by sensations both old and new: mostly new, it has been a while since anyone, even Loki, could make him tremble so, and with such intensity. It takes a while, Loki's tongue slipping deeper and deeper into him - impossible, Thor thinks dazedly, surely not - and then his thighs tighten and he is coming in a dizzy rush, clawing at Loki's back until Loki somehow reaches back to grab his wrists with an impatient hiss.

He spins Thor around before he tosses him carelessly to the ground, and Thor lays there for a while, breathless and reeling from minute aftershocks of pleasure.

It starts to rain, and Loki looks up to the darkening sky briefly before he falls to his knees, arm extending to capture Thor's ankle and drag him forward, to pull his lower body into his lap. "Make it stop," he says.

"I do not want to." Thor wraps his legs lazily around Loki's waist, arches up into the fat, warm droplets.

"Would you rather I mount you here in the mud as if you were an animal?" He touches Thor's upper thigh lightly, smirks when Thor twitches as the rain turns to ice on his skin. Thor cannot be bothered to formulate a reply, so he beckons instead. Loki's smirk slips away and after a moment he makes a circling motion with his finger.

It is easy enough to oblige, but as his hands and knees start to sink into the ground, Thor has to consider that perhaps this was not the best idea. It is too late a moment later, for Loki has pulled his skirt up and slid roughly into him, grunting softly. His body weight forces Thor closer to the mud, as does Loki's hard grip against the back of his neck.

Thor closes his eyes, focuses on the coolness of Loki's hand on his skin, the coarse rub of his trousers against the back of his exposed thighs. He is only just starting to find pleasure again when Loki shudders, spilling inside of him with a low moan.

"Turn around," he says, but he does not wait for Thor to comply before he grabs him by the arm and drags him into his lap. He rearranges Thor's limbs as if he were a doll, until he is satisfied, and Thor loops his arms loosely around his neck. Loki glances away and clenches his jaw, a vein rising along the pale angles on his face, and it has been a while since Thor has seen him affected this way.

He asks softly, "Why this form?"

"Do you only have the two questions to ask?"

"Aye."

Loki merely says, "Look at you, you are a mess," and rubs his palms down Thor's arms. He cleans up whatever the rain has yet to wash away, plucking leaves from Thor's hair and smoothing damp strands away from his face. Thor can feel it bounce as they start to walk, Loki holding Thor by the hand yet again and pulling him along.

*

They attract a few curious glances as they enter the village, Thor bearing the brunt of them. He glares at whomsoever dares until they avert their gazes. "Are you hungry," Loki asks, heading purposefully towards what looks like a tavern.

"Nay, but I find myself in need of cask of ale or two."

The tavern is lowly lit, and half-empty. They are led to a table by a thin, forgettable looking boy who bobs his head when Loki orders mead and stew, and flushes when he drags Thor into his lap. "Hurry, boy," Loki says.

"Yes, sir," the boy says, and scurries away.

"I doubt the food is remotely edible," Loki murmurs to Thor. "But it will have to do."

"Have you not been to this village before?"

"Why would I ever want to come to this dreadful place unless you are there to insist I follow. Unlike you, I have no interest in toying with the mortals."

"I do not toy with them."

Loki snorts. "I recall otherwise."

Thor is in far too good a mood to argue, and so he merely tracks the boy's movement as he returns with their mead and a hot bowl of stew. He attempts to leave Loki's lap, but Loki holds him firm, choosing to eat around his frame.

"This is inappropriate," Thor remarks, after Loki has pushed the bowl away and moved on to the mead.

"In this establishment? I think not."

Thor has to laugh at that, and he props his legs on the table, crossing them at the ankle. Loki slides his hand down the length of his thigh and leaves it on his knee, caressing it idly. He feeds Thor mug after mug of mead until he is leaning back into Loki, head lolling against his shoulder.

"You should sit like a lady," Loki admonishes mildly, laying a light slap against Thor's leg.

"But I am not," Thor replies, affronted. He burps loudly, and finds himself giggling. "I am a god."

"You are drunk."

"Nay." He remembers being able to hold his mead far better. Perhaps only a few days ago. He slides down further against Loki's cock, which earns him a hiss.

"People are staring."

"Are they?"

"Do not be a tease." He lifts Thor by the hips, ignores his objections to turn him around and sit him on the table. Thor puts his boot against Loki's chest, and Loki leans forward, bending Thor's knee towards his chest briefly before he hits his leg aside and raises himself up, bearing down over him.

They have done this, in different taverns across different times and different realms, and depending on the place and time it was either dangerous or not, and the place would end up in pieces or not.

It has never been like this.

The back of Loki's finger is traveling up the inside of his leg, and his thighs tremble at the light touch.

They are interrupted by a soft clearing of the throat. Thor turns his head lazily, to see a man nervously tugging on his vest. "If you would rather be alone -"

"Go away," Loki interrupts.

"What he means is if you want to stick it in her there are rooms upstairs." This is a woman, as ruddy and pale as the man, coming up to scowl at them.

"We should leave," Thor tells Loki.

"Excellent idea." His hand disappears into his pocket, emerges with gold coins that he tosses onto the table without removing his gaze from Thor. "A room, then." Thor jerks when he is lifted, Loki's arms curling around his back, but he is too drunk to do more than giggle and allow himself to be carried upstairs, his legs around Loki's waist.

"First door on the left," the woman calls after them, "and if you make a mess it's extra."

The bed is hard and filled with lumps, but better than the rock of a cave floor. Loki pushes Thor's skirt up and crawls on top of him, forcing his legs apart. "Wait," Thor says, and shoves at Loki until he rolls off. On his feet, he searches for a bucket to relieve himself in, and finds it in the corner.

"You cannot do it standing up," Loki calls out.

"Ah," Thor says, the warm piss trickling down his legs proving Loki correct. He uses a rag to clean himself and stumbles back to the bed, collapses on top of Loki. "This is inconvenient," he says, but his eyes are closing and he is not awake to hear Loki's response.

*

He awakens to sunlight, and Loki standing by the window, looking outwards. "What is going on?"

"They found a body in the forest. Some sheepherder. Most likely he was drunk and fell into the river."

Thor sits up and rubs the sleep from his eyes with hands that are still far too small, hands that are not his own. "I have not changed back."

Loki turns briefly, shrugs. "Some insipid child informed me that what they call breakfast is to be served soon, and that we may have it downstairs or up here."

"Downstairs," Thor says. "Will we stay here for a while longer?"

"If you wish."

"I -" Thor replies. He stares at his feet, at the thin curves of his calves, his thighs. "Aye. We could."


	2. The wolf thought to himself: what a tender young creature!

There is a girl working at the tavern, she says her name is Malin. She is as pale as Loki, her face framed by red hair in wispy curls. Her father owns the tavern and the inn above, the girl says -

There is a girl working at the tavern, older in appearance than Thor, and yet the age she gives is at least two years younger than Thor would have assumed. She serves them mead in a darkened corner of the tavern, and there is a gap in the middle of her two front teeth when she smiles at Thor -

There is a girl working at the tavern, and she says her name is Malin, and she says, "You are so pretty," and she coos over the softness of his hands when he opens them to her, her own fingers rough with callouses. There is a nervous air about her, and she casts her pale green eyes downwards whenever Loki speaks.

She moves to another table, and Loki watches her, says, "You prefer them with heavier bosoms, do you not?"

Thor puts his cup to his lips, says nothing at all.

*

The third day, Loki brings a seamstress up to the room. At Thor's eyebrow raise, he says, "You have done nothing but grumble over your coverings. I have given a fair bit of coin for her to turn you decent. Do not pout."

"I doubt even my considerable skills can turn this one into a lady," the woman says, tutting at Thor's spread legs and slumped posture. "You are barely proper!"

Thor sits up straight. "I am a Prince of As-" He trails off and attempts to keep his knees together, but she waves him into standing. Reluctantly, he obeys, and so spends an interminable hour being poked and prodded while Loki hides his arms behind his back and offers suggestions, the seamstress nodding her head in approval. "Ow," Thor says, as a needle pricks his skin.

"Have you never been fitted for a dress before?" She sounds scandalized. Thor crosses his arms, and earns another glare. He lets them fall to the side and gives Loki a beseeching stare, which is resoundingly ignored.

"I have been subjected to torture less excruciating," Thor says.

"And yet not a single mark mars your skin. Was the torture an attempt to beat your hair into submission? Has it never been touched by a comb before?"

Thor refrains from responding with the tone her disrespect warrants, and is rewarded when she finally leaves, promising to be back in a few days with appropriate wear. Loki fingers Thor's curls when she is gone, says, "It could use a brushing."

"No," Thor says, and turns away. "Perhaps later," he adds. "I want to eat."

Loki chooses their usual corner of the tavern. He orders meat and stew, and the mead arrives without a request. Thor pours the mead down his throat, and grabs a thigh thick with juicy flesh when the plate is slammed onto the table. Loki clucks disapprovingly as Thor chews on the meat, ravenous despite this body not being able to consume even half the amount of food he is used to. "How can you still eat so much," he remarks at one point, and sounds annoyed.

Thor puts the bone down, and licks each oily finger deliberately. He hums underneath his breath, and pushes the plate away. Loki takes Thor's wrist in his hand as he reaches for the mead, pulls on his arm.

"Do you worry over Asgard," he asks, lip curling unpleasantly.

"I always worry over Asgard."

"Odin -"

"Odin is not Asgard. Her people are not Asgard."

"The golden son, always and forever. Do not pretend you're not exactly like the All-Father."

"At least I do not skirt my responsibilities, plot against family -"

"And that is all you ever care for, is it not? For family, for honor, for Asgard." Thor's wrist is still in his hand. His fingers twist around it until Thor can feel the bones grind against each other and a sickening cold starts to spread, the pain radiating up his arm and forcing tears into his eyes.

Thor should call Mjolnir, tucked safely under their bed. He should slam the heavy tray into the side of Loki's head, kick him repeatedly until he falls. He should call the thunder, always his friend, invite it under his skin and match cold frost with cold lightning.

Instead he casts his gaze downwards, lowers his voice and says, "Stop. Please."

Loki releases him.

Thor cradles his hand to his chest and bites his lower lip, stares blindly until the tray is pushed at him. "There," Loki says. "Now let us try this again." It is a while before the pain stops and he can touch the food again, but he is hungry no longer and can only pick at it until even Loki says, "You can stop now, Thor, if you have had enough."

Thor pauses, then replies with care, "I will let you know when I have had enough."

Upstairs, Loki puts a salve on Thor's arm that lightens the bruise but does not clear it entirely, rubbing it deep into the skin with a surprisingly light touch. "Can you not perform some sorcery to heal it?"

"I am not a healer. Do you not remotely understand what I can do?"

"You have always kept secrets from me. What do I know of what you can and cannot do?"

"Perhaps if you had only bothered to ask, instead of -" He cuts himself off and shakes his head wearily. "Flex your fingers." Thor does so, and manages to control the wince. Loki murmurs in approval and puts the inside of Thor's wrist to his lips, skittering over the pulse.

Before the night sets Loki disappears into the village and returns with an ivory comb and handheld mirror to match, each handle intricately carved. Thor sits on the bed with his head bowed and Loki brushes out each and every tangle, until it shines gold in the mirror.

*

In their darkened corner, Loki pulls Thor into his lap and beckons Malin over. "She is very pretty, is she not," he says, and she nods her head.

She puts their plates down onto the table but does not move away. Instead her hands twist into her apron and she asks, "Anything else?"

"Would you like to touch her face," and Malin jerks her head up, shakes it rapidly. She takes two steps back, and Loki says, "Stop."

"Do not tease the child," Thor says, and gives her another smile, but she is staring at Loki as if transfixed.

"Hush," Loki tells him. To Malin, he says, in a voice sweet and persuasive and effective on all that do not know him well, and even those who do, "You can touch her, Malin. Go on." Malin raises her hand, and it trembles upon Thor's face. Time slows, goes sticky with heat, and Thor only hears Loki's voice, soft and hypnotic, as he tells her, "You may kiss her as well, if you would like." Malin shakes her head yet again, but she leans forward as if unable to stop herself. Her lips are warm as she peppers his face with kisses, only pressing them against his mouth when Loki commands her to, and there she is warm as well, her tongue sliding past his lips when he opens his mouth.

Loki's hand slithers up under Thor's skirt, and Thor tries to jerk away but he does not want to startle the girl, and then Loki's other arm wraps around his waist, holding him firm to Loki's chest. He slides a finger, and then another, up into Thor, and as Thor moans the girl does as well, pressing closer to him. Thor can feel the rumble of Loki's chest as he laughs, as his fingers start up a steady, insistent rhythm. The pleasure is sharp and dizzying, but the constriction uncomfortable, and he shivers in an effort not to move as Loki drives his fingers ever deeper still. Malin sighs, her warmth overwhelming his senses - it is too much, all of a sudden, and he stiffens and breaks away.

"Oh Miss," Malin says. "Please, I am sorry. I am sorry." She is about to cry, her lower lip trembling with the effort not to.

Thor cannot speak, and so he buries his face in Loki's neck instead, and it is Loki who says, with a kindness that Thor had not known he possessed, "Fetch us some water, girl." He disentangles himself from Thor, slipping his wet fingers into his mouth before putting them to Thor's cheek, lightly feathering over his flushed cheeks. "There, there."

Malin reappears with water and an air of desperate misery, until Loki hands her a gold coin in exchange for the water and smiles. "Leave us for now," he says, and again he sounds kind. Thor does not like it, but he cannot think straight and so he merely drinks from the glass Loki puts to his lips and settles into silence, listens to the murmurs of the patrons. There has been a wolf attack apparently, a body found ripped apart in the forest.

"Wolves," Thor mutters.

"It is none of our concern," Loki says. "Do not get any bright ideas."

*

Thor starts bleeding yet again, accompanied by pain worse than the night that he was turned. He whines to Loki and demands to know if he is being turned into something worse this time.

Loki manhandles Thor down onto the bed and pushes his knees apart, peers under his skirt before lifting his head and shrugging, "It is merely your menses. Stop whining, you are a god. Every squawking female mortal survives this monthly without as much fuss."

Thor pouts, and makes a show of clutching at his belly, until Loki relents and fetches him Malin, who clucks in concern before she disappears to fetch a pigskin of hot water, she says. Thor suspects she is humoring him.

The more misery he displays, the more Loki fusses over him. "She thinks," Loki says, when the girl has pressed the skin to his belly and been shooed away by Loki, "that I am some boorish beast who has stolen himself a princess. She has not seen you belch after consuming your body weight in meat."

Thor mewls pitifully, and Loki spreads open his thighs once again, slips his fingers inside his cunt. Thor grimaces and kicks out feebly at him, "I am hardly in any state."

"It will help with the pain," Loki says with a solemness that almost guarantees it is a lie.

"You could fix the pain with sorcery. Or a healing stone."

"As if I were speaking to a wall." Loki slips another finger in, and in the wet slide of the mess he is making, Thor forgets his objections.

He winces and arches up into Loki's hand. "It hurts still," he complains, but then Loki twists his fingers, curls them up into that white hot spot and Thor cannot speak any longer, instead finding himself going boneless and pawing at the sheets. Loki leans over and kisses the corner of his mouth delicately as Thor pants, and curses his brother's name.

There is a knock on the door, and Thor blinks heavily when Loki calls out, "Come." It is Malin again - Thor turns his head and he can see her, hovering at the door with her face as flushed as all the blood he is shedding.

"I brought warm milk," she stammers out. Loki points with his free hand at the dresser before turning his attention back to Thor, and she steps through the door as if forced to walk into Hel itself.

Thor, perhaps, tells Loki to stop. Or perhaps he does no such thing, only curls around Loki's hand as the dull throb mingles with the rush of pleasure, only clutches at Loki's arm and twists as the girl stares, wide-eyed and unmoving, the cup paused halfway to the table.

Thor closes his eyes and forgets everything for a brief, blissful moment, and when he opens them again she is gone.

Loki extracts his hand, wipes away the blood on a piece of cloth to remark idly, "I should get her to draw you a bath. You are a mess."

"You have scandalized the girl."

"Oh, and it matters to you? You would have her sit on your cock by now, were it not missing."

Thor flushes. There have always been women, always been maidens and wenches, so long as the bodies were willing, and he has not always cared enough if hearts were broken or reputations ruined, least of all mortal hearts.

Gods do not have time for the small things.

And yet they are all small things, especially now.

"We should leave here," he says. "They have had enough of us."

"Not of our gold, surely. I have been more than generous. Or is that you have tired of young Malin? We can find you others, there must be plenty of maidens for you to seduce. Or perhaps you would prefer a boy. The wench has a brother, he is only marginally older than she is. You have met him." His lips tighten as he speaks, and Thor knows this: there will be no boy, no man, besides Loki.

Malin cannot bear to glance at them as she carries hot water up for the bath. Thor has to endure Loki stripping him of his clothes and ordering him into the tub - the water is too hot, but it's soothing. He sinks into it and ignores a muffled conversation between Loki and the girl, who replies in a hushed, horrified whisper. "You are scaring the child," Thor says, once she has run from the room in a clatter of feet.

"I am certain she has seen much worse," Loki replies. He squeezes a washcloth and puts it to Thor's back, tuts disapprovingly. "Look at how dirty you have gotten." Thor squirms as the cloth finds its way to between his knees, to where he is still sensitive and aching. He allows his head to drop onto Loki's shoulder, breathes in the humid air and the scent of leather as Loki cleans him with care. "Besides, she wants you. That has not changed: they all want you."

"And you?"

"I want you to be less filthy, and to stop your ceaseless whining. And to obey me."

"I will," Thor replies drowsily, before he drifts off to sleep.

*

Malin brings rolled cotton, presses it discreetly into Thor's palm. When Thor stares at it in confusion, she lowers her voice. "For your menses - ah, do you have a name, Miss?"

"She responds to hey you, if you must," Loki says, and Thor clamps his mouth shut. Loki snaps his fingers at the girl and tells her, "Oh, enough. Go. I will take care of her." To Thor he says, "Surely it cannot be that difficult for your even your tiny brain to comprehend how this works?"

Thor bares his teeth and snaps, "I am not that stupid."

But Loki does not believe him, and snaps his fingers again, with greater impatience, for Thor to hand the cotton over to him. Thor lifts his nightgown and grimaces at the splatter of red on his thighs. "Lie down," Loki says. "Spread your legs."

"Be quick about it," he says, as Loki pushes his thighs even further apart with tolerant fingers. "Is it really necessary?"

"There is only one bed. Unless you wish to sleep on a rug like a dog, it is necessary." Thor raises himself up onto his elbows as Loki slips two fingers inside him. Thor clenches, unable to help it. "Stop that. Unless you wish this to hurt. You have had my cock in you, surely this should not prove such a daunting prospect."

"Perhaps your cock is not as impressive as you assume." 

Loki looks, briefly, as if he will insist upon proving Thor's words wrong, but only rolls his eyes in the end.

Thor tries, he does. But he cannot help it, the reaction is beyond his control. He expects more mockery from Loki, and complaints, for his hands are now streaked with blood, dark against his pale skin, but all he does is offer Thor a supercilious smile before his face disappears into the vee of Thor's thighs. Thor gasps, and oh, that clever tongue yet again. His misery fades away, the tension leaving him as he presses his hot cheek into the pillow. "Ah," he gasps, and grabs Loki's hair in his fist. It comes soon enough, different this time, and Thor feels even more blood rushing out from him with the pleasure as his hips lift off the bed, tiny spasms rocking his entire body.

When he turns his face back to Loki he is raising himself upright, wiping at his reddened lips and chin with the back of his hand. The air is thick with the scent of copper. "Stay like this," he says. Thor nods mutely as Loki retrieves a wet cloth and cleans himself, and then Thor. It is easier, this time, his body pliant and yielding, cushioned in softness.

"There," Loki says, with some satisfaction. "Perhaps tomorrow you might be able to accomplish this by yourself." Thor stretches his arms above his head and allows a flicker of a smile to cross his face. Loki sighs. "Utterly and completely useless."


	3. And so she ran from the path into the wood to look for flowers

The seamstress returns with an array of silk and cotton dresses. She carries a basket as well, which she places on the table with some flourish. Thor opens it and brings out a cloak of the deepest red, fitted with a loose hood. It is as exquisite as any he has ever worn. "As per your instructions," she tells Loki as Thor sweeps it over his shoulders, savors its heavy, comforting weight.

Loki passes her no small amount of coin and dismisses her, interrupting her before she can complete her tale of yet another wolf attack in the forest.

"If there are wolves -" Thor begins as Loki leads him over to the pile of dresses.

"It is none of our concern, as I have already said."

"It is," Thor says, but Loki is pondering over the dresses and does not listen.

He finally sets aside a pale blue dress fitted with lace at the sleeves. "Turn around," he says, pulling the cloak off Thor and throwing it onto the bed.

There are so many layers, Thor is lightheaded by the time Loki fits the dress proper over his head. "You are trying to torture me. There are simpler dresses."

"Yes, but I want you in this one," Loki replies distractedly, stepping back. His gazes at Thor as if mesmerized, does not speak for the longest time. 

"The cloak is beautiful."

"Aye." Loki picks it up and drapes it back around Thor's frame, fastens it at his throat with a brooch of pure gold shaped into the form of a snake winding around itself, a single red ruby for its eye. He snaps to attention to take Thor by the hand, lead him to the bed and settles him down in his lap, arranging Thor's skirts around his waist.

"Thank you," Thor says, slipping his arms over Loki's shoulders. "Thank you."

*

Malin halts while cleaning the room, a pillow clutched in her hands. "I tried to pick up that hammer in the corner, but it was heavy." She is chatty, when Loki is not there. Thor wanders over and wrap his fingers around Mjolnir. it has been days since he has even touched it. He barely hears the girl say, in a loud whisper, "Is he a god? Will he save us from the beast?"

"He -"

"But Thor is strong, and golden and brave," she adds in a rush.

"And a bit of a fool."

They both turn to the sound of Loki's voice as he slinks back into the room, his hands clasped behind his back. There is a peculiar smile on his face. "Leave us," he says. Malin almost runs, but she is not fast enough. Loki grabs her arm, and she halts, her entire body wracked with trembles. "Gods will only disappoint you. Learn this well, child."

"Yes sir, yes," she says, and when Loki releases her she bolts, and Thor hears her shoes pounding down the stairs, almost tripping in her haste to get away.

"You scared her," Thor says.

"The truth is often scary." He surges forward, and Thor stumbles back into the wall. His skirts are suddenly too heavy, too tight and restrictive. He is Thor. It becomes easier to forget as the days pass, that he is playing a role. That this fragile girl with her curls and her silks and her perfumed skin is not real. Loki's hand is on the back of his neck, pushing him to his knees. "Your mouth could be made useful if you would stop forming words with it."

Thor licks his lips and peers up from underneath his lashes. Loki's gaze softens, and he wraps a curl around his finger. "Will you behave?" Thor nods his head jerkily. He presses his face to Loki's crotch and Loki exhales, sharp. The breeches are easier to unlace with smaller, less clumsy fingers, but it might not be the same with his mouth. He tries, though, even if the technique does not seem to matter, not when even the barest of kisses against the length of Loki's cock sends him swearing underneath his breath and rocking back on his heels.

He takes Loki into his mouth with some hesitation, wraps his fingers around the rest of it, and when he hollows out his cheeks and sucks, Loki's exhales loudly and his thumb comes up to graze the corner of Thor's mouth. "Look at you," he says. "You pretty thing, look at you."

He does not last long after that, pulling back to finish on Thor's mouth and chin. Thor licks his lips, and Loki falls to his knees as well, bending down to kiss him wetly, sloppily. The air is heavy with the scent of sex, and he aches between his legs. Loki merely has to reach under his skirts to rub his fingers against him in an insistent manner, and Thor is collapsing carelessly against him, shaking with the force of it.

*

Thor nurses a drink at the bar, ignoring the proprietor when he goes, "Where's your man, eh?"

He does not know where Loki is. Perhaps he has left Thor here to rot. "Another," he says, pushing the glass forward.

"Drowning your sorrows in drink will not help."

"You are wrong." He drinks until the room starts to spin, then stands up and turns blindly, colliding with a broad, unyielding chest. "Excuse me," Thor says. "You are in my way."

There is no response, only laughter.

They are only men.

But then, he is only a girl.

It is Loki that puts at end to the madness, to his rage. He lifts Thor bodily up by the waist, ignoring his kicking legs, and it is only the shock of cold against him that brings Thor out of the haze, if only enough to recognize his brother. "Enough, Thor." He is too loud, even though he is speaking barely above a whisper. "You have won." Thor lifts his head up to the sky that is hidden from him and screams, and the sky answers with barely a roll of thunder, barely that.

The damage is not extensive: a few broken chairs, some bruises, a lot of wounded pride. Loki marches Thor up and throws him onto the bed, and Thor rises into a crouch to bare his teeth at him. Loki lifts one finger up, says, "I will be back once I have assured the proprieter that I will pay for the damages and he does not evict us."

"He will not evict us," Thor says. He lowers his gaze briefly. "Come here."

Loki hesitates, but only for a second, before launching himself forward. Thor howls and scratches at him, and they wrestle, and it is just like how it was, except that when Thor wins, when he has straddled Loki triumphantly and is yanking forcefully at his breeches, it is because Loki lets him: smiles, when Thor rides him and drops his head forward and calls his name, smiles when he cups Thor's breasts in his hands and rubs the nipples until they are stiff and aching. Smiles when he jerks up his hips and spills his seed before Thor reaches any sort of satisfaction. Loki must do this on purpose. Or else Thor cannot do it right.

He rolls off Loki with a grunt of disappointment, but Loki reaches for him, slips his hand inbetween his legs and works him until he is screaming, yet again, and this time the sky obeys him, opening up to batter the land with rain and to course lightning through his body.

He is exhausted, afterwards, but still burning with exhilaration, and Loki is sulking, nursing a hand he claims has been singed. "You are a god, heal yourself," Thor says, laughing, and does not allow Loki's dissatisfied moue to spoil his good mood.

*

"It's so pretty," Malin says, faintly envious, as she combs Thor's hair. "If I had hair like yours I would not be able to keep from brushing it." In the mirror, he is nothing but huge blue eyes and a face yet unformed and far from adulthood. She is sweet, this girl. She speaks to him as if they were kin, as if their youth bound them together. He wants to tell her, kindly: I am not who you think I am. But he does not.

Loki is watching them.

He nods his head faintly at Malin, and after a moment she climbs into Thor's lap, peppers his face with tentative kisses. Thor puts his hand against her ribcage. It is as delicate as a bird's, and her heart beats as fast. "Do not be afraid," he murmurs to her, soft so Loki cannot hear, but from the darkening in his eyes he does. She presses her lips chastely to his as a response, and Thor sighs. "We should not."

"Oh, but miss."

She leads him to the bed, but it is Thor that pushes her down onto it, Thor who undresses her slowly. Her eyebrows raise in surprise and she asks him, "What is your name?"

"I -" Thor kisses her instead of providing yet another lie, palms both her breasts until she shivers, and this at least is familiar. A girl underneath him, and he thrusts involuntarily, makes her giggle.

The red silk Loki has him in is restrictive - he sits up in a huff and tears impatiently at it, and is startled by cool hands upon his back and Loki's lips at his temple. Loki unlaces the corset slowly as Malin watches them both, eyes wide. His hands cup Thor's breasts as he releases the lace, but he moves away after that, returns to sprawl in a chair in the corner of the room. Malin helps him undress the rest of the way, her fingers clumsy and shy. Thor has care to ask, "Have you done this before?"

"Yes miss, but not with someone like you."

Thor breathes in her scent, kisses her forehead, her nose, her mouth, all the way down her chest, to where her legs quiver and fall open for him. His tongue has her crying out in shocked surprise, and it is clear no-one else she has lain with has bothered with her pleasure. He makes her come, over and over again, until she cries, "Enough!" and pulls him up to wrap contented arms around him, her body soft and yielding.

It seems easy enough, and yet here he has gone barely two weeks and has managed to do nothing but gain a hearty resentment of that thing between his legs. It's not even that he misses his cock, although that is part of it.

Malin has fallen asleep. Thor pushes her gently aside and lifts his head to see Loki, an unfathomable expression on his face. He rises as Thor watches, moving to sit next to Malin on the bed. She stirs and raises her head, "Sir," and Loki leans down and whispers something in her ear that makes her smile.

Thor cannot remove his gaze from Loki's, even as Malin undoes his trousers and puts her mouth to his cock. Loki's only reaction is a slight tightening around the jawline and a darkening of his eyes. The sound of sucking fills the air, and still Thor cannot move. It is Loki in the end who leans forward, but only to press his hand between Thor's breasts. Thor encircles Loki's wrist within his fingers, digs into the skin with his nails until he shudders, and goes still.

They fall asleep in a pile on the bed, and when Thor awakes in the morning Malin is gone. "Where is she," Thor asks, faintly accusing.

"I killed her and boiled her bones for witchcraft."

"Do not jest."

Loki grabs Thor's chin. "What do you imagine I have done to her," he hisses. "Do you see me as harming someone of so little consequence?"

"I was merely -"

"Enough. I know what you think of me."

"You know nothing," he says.

"I know you do not trust me."

"It is not that."

"Enough." He sighs, as if extremely displeased. Thor wrenches himself away, and Loki's frown deepens. "The wench is downstairs," he says, "shoveling food in the mouths of hungry peasants, no doubt. I have not harmed a hair on her precious head. Get dressed."

*

Thor picks up the red dress gingerly, and Loki rolls his eyes and stomps off downstairs: a minute later and Malin comes trailing back into the room after him, nodding her head as Loki orders her to assist Thor. Loki chooses a dress of deep green this time, with gold accents.

"I will put curls in your hair, miss," Malin says brightly. An endless while later and she has accomplished just that, twisted it into giant rings that frame his face.

"I preferred the red," Thor says, turning his head back and forth to feel the curls bounce against his shoulders.

"Hmm," Loki says. Thor clutches at the hem of the skirt, rises demurely to his feet.

"I could paint her face as well," Malin offers.

"No," Loki says, sharp. "She does not need any of that." He tosses Malin another coin, and she wisely runs off after palming it, closing the door behind her as she leaves.

"I am hungry," Thor declares.

Loki holds out his hand for Thor to take. "Come along, then. We know how you get when you are not properly fed."

Thor eats too much, and Loki watches him with nothing but faint amusement, even when Thor stands from the chair and says, "Shall we take a walk? I have not left this place in days."

"You are not missing much, this is a wretched village. I do not understand your fondness for this realm." But he sighs, and takes Thor's hand once again as they leave.

There is a market nearby, a stretch of makeshift stalls displaying their wares. Loki buys an apple from a fruit stall and presents it to Thor after shining it on his coat.

"Thank you," Thor says, and bites into it. It is sweet, but not nearly as sweet as Idunn's. But then, nothing is. Thor buys a basket, fills it with bread and cheese and fruit, all paid for patiently by Loki.

"This is for that wretched girl, is it not," Loki says. "Are we planning a second breakfast?"

"Perhaps," Thor says, smiling brightly and tilting his head up at him. "You may join us, if you are well behaved."

Loki merely shoves his hands into his pockets and refuses to pay for anything else. But Thor has purchased enough.

"Do you remember," Loki says, as they are walking back to the tavern. "When Thrym stole Mjolnir and you decided it was necessary to dress up as his bride to get it back."

"Yes, but if my memory serves me it was your idea." Thor had not needed much persuasion, as it was so often with Loki.

It explains his current predicament, surely.

"You were beautiful."

"The bridesmaid's dress suited you better. I was a giant in a white dress."

"But look at you now." He wraps one of Thor's curls in his finger, tugs gently on it. "You are perfect."

Perfect.

It is the last word Loki would ever use to describe him. The very last.

Malin coos over the basket until Loki wearies of it and chases her off, the basket clutched in her hands.

Thor keeps an apple, slices it thinly and offers a piece to Loki. He takes it from Thor with his mouth, and Thor slides his fingers into it, allows Loki to suck the juices from them.

*

He awakens to howling, loud enough that he has to force his eyes open. Loki is asleep, his arm draped heavily around Thor's waist. Thor pushes at him, but he merely stirs enough for Thor to extract himself.

The howling turns louder, high and mournful. "Brother," Thor says, shaking his shoulder. There is no response.

Thor will have to rely on himself, then. It is not as if Loki has ever proven particularly useful in these matters in any case, far preferring the side of chaos above all else. He dresses swiftly, choosing the most simple of the dresses under his cloak before he opens the window and climbs through, Mjolnir in hand as he drops to the ground below.

The night is bitterly cold, and only illuminated by the light of the moon. Thor heads towards the lonesome wailing and finds himself venturing deep into the forest, where even the moon is thwarted by high branches of trees, turning shadows into ominous shapes.

It is a while before he finds the first traces of a trail, broken twigs and disturbed soil. He starts to follow the tracks, but stops and turns around slowly at a rustling behind him. "Who goes," he calls out.

A man emerges from the trees. A huntsman, by the looks of him.

"It is not safe," Thor says. "There is a wolf out. You should return to your home."

The man laughs and walks towards Thor. "Little girl, why are you out here by your lonesome? I do not think I should be the one worrying about my safety."

Thor bristles: he had entirely forgotten. "It is not your concern."

"Of course it is," the man says, and now he is near enough for Thor to see the suspicion on his face. "I can't allow you to wander around late at night. As you said, there's a wolf out there."

"I can handle myself," Thor says, lifting his chin.

"It doesn't matter." A hand grips his arm, digging into the soft flesh. "I will accompany you home before you get yourself killed."

It is because he is distracted that he does not hear the wolf coming.

It is because it is too dark that he does not see the wolf coming.

It is because he is weak in this form that he cannot defend himself in time.

A force hits his side and he flies, propelled backwards until his momentum is halted by the trunk of a tree, thick enough that he feels bones break. Thor collapses onto the ground and rises to his feet as swiftly as he can, as soon as his head clears, but it is too late.

The wolf is gone.

So is the huntsman.

Thor staggers after him, follows the trail of slick black blood on the ground while leaving his own trail from a gash in his thigh, warmly flowing down his leg.

He finds the man left in the middle of a clearing, lacking an arm and part of a leg. His intestines glisten, snakelike, under the moon. Thor kneels beside him and puts his hand to the man's wide open eyes, shuts them. There are further tracks leading away from the body, but when he rises to his feet the world turns gray, and he stumbles back on unsteady feet. Before he falls, he hears Loki's voice, low and furious and annoyed, "You incorrigible fool," and cold arms emerge from the darkness to envelope his boneless form.


	4. With one bound he was out of bed and swallowed up the girl

Loki's head is bowed over his thigh when Thor awakens. He glances up long enough to show Thor his flat, infuriated face before he returns to his work, applying some sort of a bandage over the wound. Thor sits up and winces as pain spikes up his sides.

"You have broken ribs," Loki says. "I would be careful unless you want one piercing your lungs."

"Mjolnir -"

"Your useless weapon is where you dropped it. I have hidden it from view." His thumb presses into the raw flesh of the wound with unnecessary viciousness. "I should have left you there as well," he says, "to be torn to shreds. If only I had known earlier it would be this easy to send you to Hel."

"You have tried often enough."

"Must you constantly remind me of my failures?"

Thor closes his eyes, sinks back into the sheets until Loki's muttering loudens to an unbearable level. "What is it?"

"The bite will not stop bleeding."

"Bite?" Thor sits up yet again, and this time is hit by dizziness. He blinks slowly and peers at the half-covered wound. A bite, not an injury caused by being thrown. Neat and crescent-shaped and - Thor measures the jaw span mentally. "What sort of animal is capable of this on Midgard," he says, to himself most of all.

"Not one of this forsaken realm, certainly." He purrs in some sort of satisfaction, and Thor's leg tingles under a faint blue glow. "There. I have stemmed the bleeding."

"Am I mortal," Thor thinks to ask. For the first time, and how has it not occurred to him to ask earlier? The minor afflictions he simply assumed were part of Loki's tricks and not true mortality -

"If you were you would not have survived this bite, or the force of being thrown. You are -" He pauses. "Only Odin can strip you of your power. I do not know why the bite does not heal."

"Odin," Thor echoes, and feels his face curl in displeasure.

Loki's smile is thin. "If only you were."

"If only I were what?" The dizziness returns, and Loki does not respond. He falls back down and drifts off into sleep, only wakes in the afternoon to stiff limbs and a pounding head. No Loki.

Thor dresses carefully and limps downstairs, finds him in hushed conversation with another huntsman, this one visibly shaken. "They have found another body," Loki informs him brightly. "How very awful."

*

The death of the hunter brings nothing short of terror to the village, a pall settling over it, shrouding it in fear and suspicion.

The huntsman was the best in the land, they say. The wolf tore him apart as if he were a child.

The wolf is the size of a man, an ox, a horse, and stands on two legs or bounds on six.

Two more villagers die in the next seven days, their bodies as mangled as the first, and ever closer to the village.

Thor would hunt the beast down, but is struck by a fever that burns and does not subside. Malin hovers by his side briefly before Loki shooes her away to fetch wet cloths.

"It is freezing, sir," Malin says, when she returns with the cloth and a pail of water. "You will catch cold as well."

"Go away, you infernal child."

She squeaks and disappears from view.

Thor shivers and pulls his precious cloak closer to his neck. Loki ignores the cloth and instead slides into bed with Thor, using the coldness of his skin to cool him down. Thor pushes feebly at him, mumbles, "Stop it, I'm cold enough," but Lokis grip is vice-like and eventually Thor gives in to the fever and the delirium. "We need to destroy the beast," he mumbles when he can, but is ignored in this as well.

*

He dreams he slays the wolf, blood flowing as red and as bright as his cloak.

He dreams the wolf eats him, fills its belly up with hot flesh and bone and blood, shining red on its muzzle.

*

The day his fever breaks, Thor ventures down into the tavern for food. All he has had to consume since taking ill is some disgusting concoction that Loki insists is medicine - and at Thor's doubts declared that aye, it is indeed poison now be quiet and drink.

"I could eat a horse," he says.

"Your wish may be granted yet," Loki says, picking at the food on his plate. He pulls Thor into his lap and shreds thin strips off the bone with disturbing precision, feeds Thor the meat delicately until he is full.

"They stare at us more than usual," Thor says, catching the gaze of a man who would normally offer a shy smile. Now he only glances nervously away.

"We are strangers and their people are dying. Of course suspicion will fall on us. The dull creatures that they are, they will naturally come to this conclusion."

"It matters not. We need to help them."

"Their lives are short and brutal," Loki says. "Death is probably a relief."

Thor calls for mead, but Loki shakes his head and tells Malin to fetch water instead. "You are barely recovered, you need water, not spirits."

"Stop mothering me," Thor says, unthinkingly.

Loki's face falls silently shut. He pushes Thor to his feet, forces him to the other side of the table. "I am no-one's mother," he says, and a smile, wide and terrible, stretches his skin.

Malin comes with the water for Thor and wine for Loki, eyes bright with cheer. She says, "Miss, I am so happy you are well again. You must come to the celebrations tonight, I insist."

"What celebrations," Thor asks.

She is called away before she can reply. Thor turns to Loki, who shrugs. "They have decided it is necessary this year to hold a feast in honor of Thor." His lip curls. "It is comforting to learn that the sheep remember us when their lives are in peril. Or you at least."

"It is to be held at night? Are they not concerned about the wolf?"

Loki heaves a sigh of great and terrible burden. "And now you will tell me we have to attend to keep their precious souls alive."

"Aye." Thor says, and slams his mug down onto the table, biting down a wince as pain strikes his arm.

*

Loki chooses a dress of the palest gold for Thor. "And what of your ribs," he asks, as he is helping Thor into the dress.

"Healed," Thor replies airily.

Loki snorts, and tugs on the laces of his dress until Thor has to bite his lip to keep from yelping and blinks away the tears in his eyes.

Malin comes up to help with Thor's hair. She combs it straight, but braids two handfuls from the sides down his back. "There," she says, stepping back to observe him in satisfaction. "Now you look like a princess." Thor insists that she takes one of the finer dresses, and she demurs at first, but finally caves and skips off, clutching the dress to her chest.

Loki wraps Thor's cloak around him and lifts the hood over his head. It survived the attack unscatched, so it must be as as enchanted as his own is. "Shall we," Loki says, holding out an arm for Thor to slip his hand through his elbow.

There is food and drink and music and loud, raucous celebration. Thor eats too much and drinks too little, and tries to keep his focus on the surrounding forest, for signs of the wolf's return. The worship in his name turns his insides warm and golden, power humming softly through his veins. It has been a while: old gods fade away and new ones take their place. But the village is quaint enough to recall ancient beliefs, if only in desperate times. Loki is not immune: his customary sour expression fades away and his hand never leaves the back of Thor's neck. "They worship without sacrifice," he murmurs, low into Thor's ear. "With half-remembered rituals and prayers. Is this what we have come to?"

Thor shrugs. The specifics do not matter, only the intent. Rare enough that he bears witness, even if it is in disguise. "Perhaps the creature we hunt, perhaps it is one of their new gods. I have not killed a god in a while."

"And you feel you will be able to in this state?" His hand curves over Thor's thigh, fingers clamping down over bruised flesh.

Thor gasps. "If you would free me from this form."

"Is that what you wish?" He is still, his gaze flat and blank.

"What I wish," Thor says, tugging on Loki's wrist until he releases his grip. "Is that you dance with me."

"Do not be stupid."

But Thor stands and says, "I will let you lead."

It is a familiar dance, and one he has shared with far too many a mortal maiden, all of them blurred together into pretty smiles and sparkling jewelry. Loki, ever bad tempered and unwilling to curb his sharp tongue with ladies he considered beneath him - even the few enamored enough by his delicate features and fair skin to overlook his glaring personality defects - never stepped onto the floor. Instead he mostly lounged on the sidelines, a faint smirk on his face as he ran a finger around the rim of a goblet and ignored Thor. Until Thor, distracted, lost a step. Then he would laugh, and turn pointedly away.

But even an unfavored prince has to learn how to conduct himself, and so he raises his arm, and Thor raises his, and they dance. It is romance, and longing, and the sweet misery of being denied touch, and when it is over, they stop and stare at one another, until Loki says, "Come with me."

Thor follows him into a nearby barn, and has barely entered before he is swung around by the waist and pressed into a wall, Loki's mouth desperate against his. Thor moans, the desire intoxicating, and outside he can hear chanting, and that is intoxicating as well. He is swung around yet again, this time to be lowered onto a pile of soft hay. Loki lifts himself up onto his knees, drags Thor by his open legs towards him.

"Do you want me," Thor asks. "Tell me you want me."

"I want you," Loki says, in a voice barely audible. And Thor cannot tell if he only means the girl or the god, but they are becoming one and the same, and it does not matter, not when Loki is lowering himself yet again and cradling Thor's face in his hands as if he is precious, not when he is kissing him, slow and liquid, folding himself into Thor. His hands find Thor's skirts and he pushes them up, murmuring sweetly, "You are beautiful."

"Aye," Thor laughs, and his fingers on Loki's cheek trace the bone beneath his skin. Loki undoes the lace on the front of Thor's dress, exposes more of his skin to the warm air. "Can you feel that," Thor asks dreamily. There are drums now, loud and rhythmic, and his bliss is spreading outwards, hurtling the villagers into each other's arms as Loki into his. Thor cannot stop it. "Can you," he says, and Loki nods his head. Thor wraps his legs around Loki's waist and arches his back as Loki slides into him, until their bodies are inseparable. He allows his head to fall back, his blood thumping to the beat of Loki's thrusts, to the beat of the drums.

His screams are swallowed by Loki's mouth when he comes, the ground shuddering with his body, and Loki breathes, "Thor," and he is shaking as well, pouring himself into Thor and shaking, oh Loki is shaking, his brother, his -

The goddess of thunder and the god of chaos.

For one surely must follow the other.

A girl screams, high and anxious. She is followed by shouting, and gunfire, and finally, the deep howl of the wolf. Loki does not move at first, his palms are pressed next to Thor's head and his lips are still on Thor's, but as the devotion is supplanted by fear, so is Loki driven out of his haze. He rises swiftly to his feet and pulls Thor along with him, shaking his head as if to clear it fully. "Stay here," he says, before he marches out into the night without a backward glance.

Thor stands for a while, before he redresses himself and follows.

It is madness. Women and children run screaming and a fire has broken out, spreading dangerously outwards. Thor chases after Loki after he calls Mjolnir to his hand, seeks out his tall head as he ducks into corners and alleys. He is tracking the wolf, allowing himself to be guided by the howls. A final alley, this time inky black, and Thor hears a low growl. He lifts Mjolnir up, uses it as illumination, but the alley remains in darkness. Sorcery, then. The hairs on the back of Thor's neck stand up, and instinct guides him to turn. Thor readies his stance and swings his hand back as bright green eyes emerge from shadow, yet refuse to form a shape.

"Show yourself, you vile creature!" Thor calls out.

The weight that slams into him is not the beast. His body is forced against a wall, and from a distance he hears a girl screaming, a high pitched wail. Frosty fingers curl around his wrist. He drops Mjolnir, sags down onto the ground as the weight moves back. "Oh," Thor says, and passes out.

He drifts into consciousness in Loki's arms, glances around dazedly as Loki walks purposefully amongst the carnage. Smoke and fire burns his eyes, and he drops his head back to call down the rain but can only manage a light shower before his energy is gone and he goes back under.

*

He dreams he is a god, pretending to be a girl.

He dreams he is a girl, pretending to be a god.

*

When he awakens he is in bed, naked save for the cloak wrapped around him.

Loki is in a chair by the bed, whittling a dark piece of wood with a knife, his fingers quick over the form taking shape.

Thor rubs at his face with the back of his hand, says, "You hit me."

"I was trying to protect you. It would have torn you apart."

"I had it. You stopped me."

Loki stops whittling, his knife poised over the wood. His rage is almost incandescent, but when Thor merely gazes back calmly he struggles until his features are under control. "Do you think I conspire with this creature? To what ends, precisely. Do tell. If you insist on throwing around accusations like you toss around that hammer of yours at least have the decency to provide a reasonable explanation."

"I do not know." He does not. Loki's plans are convoluted, and often a mystery that Thor cannot decipher until it is too late, but he cannot see a purpose behind creating such wanton carnage.

"And yet you dare. Is it merely because I am Loki? Loki will kill children for sport, is that what you think?"

"Nay, I do not. How long - how many days have I been asleep?"

"Five. That wretched serving girl is beside herself with worry. She is convinced you will die as well. If only that were the case, but you seem determined to live despite your idiocy."

Thor touches his forehead, finds the skin there damp with sweat. There is a niggling doubt in the back of his mind, a slight and insistent scratch, but he pushes it aside. He shakes his head and lowers his gaze, and any other time but this they would settle the matter differently. With blood and fury and spite, and they would part to nurse their wounds and only meet again on separate sides of a battlefield, when Loki had time to turn his rage into vengeance.

Now, Loki merely says, in a voice without intonation, "You should rest, your wounds need to heal." He puts the piece of wood on the mattress next to Thor. It is a wolf, mouth bared wide with the sharpest of teeth.

"Aye," Thor says, and obeys.


	5. And the little girl sprang out, crying: ah, how frightened I have been!

Malin's brother is dead.

Thor knows this from the suppressed tears, the hushed grief that shrouds the inn. No one save for Malin will speak to them, and so they stay in the room. Or Thor does, as his body tries to recover from yet another blow. Loki comes and goes as he pleases, at odd hours day and night.

Malin comes up once, when Loki has finished and has Thor trapped under his arm. She crawls into the bed and presses her warmth against Thor's chest so sweetly even Loki lifts his hand and allows her to come close, drapes it over her thin back. "You're cold," she whispers, giggling softly.

"Has the wolf taken any more," Thor asks.

"No," Malin says, her smile fading. "Not since Malik. He died trying to protect me from it. We were running, and I fell, but he came back to save me."

She shudders, and Thor presses his fingers to her cheek, wipes a tear from it. "He died a warrior's death, and will be honored in Valhalla."

"That is no comfort. Our parents needed him more."

Loki stirs against Thor's back, and Thor thinks he is growing weary of her despair, but all he does is raise his hand to the back of her head to cradle it. "Your life is of no less value than his," Loki says.

Thor turns his head and kisses him, then.

*

They argue, inevitably, over Loki's constant disappearances, his refusal to assist in hunting the creature, and instead choosing to spread dissent, as only he knows how. There is bloodshed, and a minor fire. Loki pulls Thor into his lap in a darkened corner of the inn and smirks gleefully while stroking Thor's hair.

"I heard," Malin leans in conspiratorially, as she serves them their drink. "That it is a man trapped in the body of a beast. That he was cursed by a witch to forever hunger for human flesh."

"You should not listen to rumors," Thor says.

Loki snorts in derision, but asks, "Do they send a hunting party tonight?"

"Aye. The huntsman from the north arrived today. They say he once killed a wolf with his bare hands, took it by the jaw and ripped it open. Mother gave him the room next to yours." Thor has seen the man, a giant, hulking creature who gazed even at Thor in suspicion as he passed.

"He will be no match for the beast," Thor tells Loki once Malin has left to serve others. "They should not be out there."

"And what would you have me do?"

"Go with them. I am still too weak." He feathers his lips along Loki's jaw, curls his hand against his waist.

"I do not see the need to help them. Have you not heard the aspersions they have cast against you? Against me?"

"It does not matter."

Loki stiffens, and slaps Thor's hand away. "As if you would have let such slights pass. I have seen you start wars for less, and yet you are still hailed a hero."

"These are hardly warriors, only scared men with poor control over their words. They are harmless."

"Your hypocrisy continues to astound me. Look at you," Loki says, his voice a low, harsh whisper. "Hiding behind your pretty hair and fine dresses."

"You made me as such."

"Oh, but you loved it, did you not. Craved my cock cramming inside of you - squealing like a pig, desperate for more. Does the All-Father know what depravity you seek? Does your Lady Sif?"

"It's a role you cast. Perhaps because an adult is too much of a challenge for you."

"No, it's because I wanted to see what levels you would willingly sink to, and oh, there are no depths to them, apparently. I was humoring you. You disgust me."

"Do I?" Thor pulls away from Loki's grip, slides off his lap. "Your actions betray your words."

"Do they? I will show you what my actions betray, you sniveling brat."

Thor allows Loki to drag him upstairs to their room, hand rough on the back of his neck. From the corner of his eye he spots Malin, tray in hand, staring wide-eyed at them both.

"Do it, then," Thor says, when they are alone. He goes very still as Loki reaches for him, tears all the finery off his shoulders until he is left in nothing but his underthings, tattered silk pooling in deep red around his feet. Loki then gets carefully onto his knees, and Thor braces himself but Loki's anger has cooled, leaving behind a far more dangerous malice.

"I enjoyed the shell, that is true. And the imbecile so willing to subjugate himself in it."

Thor tilts his head. "I know you think me foolish."

"Truth, not opinion."

"Aye." Thor puts one palm, and then the other on Loki's cheek. "Was I this cruel to you?" Thor cannot remember. It had not seemed so at the time: Loki was his brother, and the slights were negligible in his mind. Loki was so difficult, sly and deceitful and always with a lie on his lips. It was merely right that Thor put him in his place.

"Cruelty implies some sort of intent," Loki says. "You were merely being yourself." Thor crosses his hands in front of him, bows slightly, allows the rings of his hair to fall around his head. There's a sigh, and Loki wraps his fingers around his wrists, pulls himself up.

He spreads Thor out on the bed, removes each underthing slowly, until Thor is left in nothing but the stockings. "I want you," Thor says thickly.

"I know." Loki pauses, his fingers light against Thor's collarbone. "I will accompany the huntsmen. We shall slay the beast, and I will lift its head up in your name. Would that make you happy?"

"Aye." Thor nods his head. "It would."

*

The plans for the hunt are made in the tavern. Thor dresses and goes downstairs, and is greeted by hostile eyes. Only Loki extends a hand towards him, helping him down the last few steps. Thor catches a glimpse of a map, but is quickly led away. "Show me the plans," he demands of Loki.

"You think I cannot organize a simple hunting party by myself," Loki hisses. "Do you wish to humiliate me in front of them as you have in front of all the Nine Realms repeatedly? That I would need the guidance of a wench barely past her first bleed?"

"This is no longer a game. I would rather reveal myself -"

"Enough," Loki says. He shoves Thor into a chair says, "They would not believe you anyway. Look around. You are only tolerated because of me." His eyes are glittering, triumphant. But he is not wrong: Thor is not fool enough to ignore the mood of a room.

"Did you have a hand in this?"

"I have had enough of your impudence," Loki says. "Return to your room or I will leave them without my protection against the beast."

He would.

Thor does as he says, seething as he paces, until Malin knocks hesitantly on the door.

"Come," Thor says.

"I brought cake," Malin says, sliding a tray towards Thor.

"I am not hungry." But he accepts her offer, shoveling dry pieces into his mouth distractedly.

Malin twists her fingers in the folds of her dress. Thor stops eating to offer her a questioning look, and she says in a rush, "He is a wicked man. I don't care what you think, miss. He does not mean you well."

He is my brother, Thor almost says, but does not.

He rarely does, Thor almost says, but does not.

Instead he shakes his head, and she turns, runs out of the room.

Thor finishes his cake, but he cannot abide staying behind any longer, not while the men put themselves into danger. And so he waits until they have left and follows them, the hood of his cloak over his head and Mjolnir tucked at his waist. The bite on his thigh burns hotter the further he walks, and soon he feels the wound re-open and blood dripping down his leg.

This time there is no howling, just the sound of men screaming. Thor breaks into a run, but it is too late: by the the time he reaches them they are all dead, each and every one of them. Thor stands in the middle of the carnage, whips his head around in search of where the wolf might have fled. There will be time later to mourn the dead, for now he must catch the beast before it disappears.

It is only Loki that emerges, staggering, from the trees. Only Loki, paler than usual and hair in disarray around his face. There is a gash in his shoulder, the cloth torn from it. Thor rushes to him as he falls to his knees. "Where is it, where did it go," he asks.

Loki points, but when Thor makes to leave his cloak is grabbed, a strong arm holds him back. "No, it's too strong." He gasps and clutches at Thor's shoulder. "Help me, please. Do not leave me alone here."

Thor hesitates only briefly, before he Loki to his feet, wraps his arm around his shoulders. Loki seems unable to support himself, and so Thor is forced to carry most of his weight. He can barely manage.

Together, they head out of the forest.

*

Loki heals swiftly. Thor does not. The fever does not return, but his thigh turns a deep ugly red, swelling around the harsh grooves left by the bite. Loki's attempts at sorcery only seem to make it worse, leaving Thor wracked with pain. "Are you doing this on purpose," he hisses once, as Loki's thumb digs into the opened wound and he has to suppress a scream.

"You were right," is all Loki says in response. "It is not a mere wolf."

"You realize this only now?" He glares with suspicion as Loki walks over to the door and has a muffled conversation, returning with what looks like a needle and thread laid on cloth. "You have seen the beast yourself and you realize this only now?"

The room is freezing. Has been for days, at Lokis insistence that the heat will only cause the wound to be infected faster. Thor shivers and hugs the cloak tightly around himself, takes comfort in its warm, solid redness.

"Give me your leg," Loki says.

"No." His attempt to get away fails immediately, with a wrist catching his ankle and tugging him forwards.

"You are worse than when we were children and you would wail at the slightest provocation."

"Oh you mean whenever you dared me into recklessness and laughed when I injured myself?"

"Our memories of our childhood differ wildly," Loki replies. "Now stay still. I need to stitch the wound closed."

This time Thor cannot hold back, and so he screams into the pillow instead.

When it is finally over, he sits up and wipes furiously at the tears on his face, throwing the force of his hurt at Lokis unimpressed face. "Like a child," he merely repeats.

"Where's Malin? I want Malin."

Malin clucks over him, smoothes the hair from his face and feeds him hot soup, even somehow manages to convince Loki to stoke a small fire. "It will do her no good to catch cold, sir."

"It will serve her right," Loki says, but capitulates.

To Thor she says, "You will not heal if you don't rest."

"I have told her this countless times," Loki says. "She hardly listens." He has cleared away the needle and thread but left his fingers bloodied, and now they are on the stitches, sliding aimlessly along them. It is soothing, somehow.

"It might be -" She bites her lower lip, then says in a rush, "Perhaps it is best that you stay in your room instead of wandering out at night. Miss, mother has seen your dresses caked with mud. It isn't - you should stay in your room. Should I tell them you were injured by the wolf, that it could not possibly be what they imagine?" Her pretty face constricts.

"And what do they imagine," Thor asks, dread low in his belly.

"Enough nonsense," Loki says, and Malin jumps. "Go spread your tales elsewhere, she needs to rest."

Thor has not the energy to protest, and when she is gone Loki says, "Their suspicions rise. It might be unwise for you to continue to seek out the wolf."

"Then I should reveal myself," Thor says. "They will trust me then."

"If you reveal yourself to them, you reveal yourself to Heimdall, and the All-Father, and everyone he chooses to tell. Is this what you want?"

Thor swallows. "Then help me slay the beast." Loki could, if he truly wanted to. If Thor could appeal to the better nature he knows his brother keeps buried under bitterness and rage.

"Stay in your room, and I will." Loki is still staring at Thor's thigh. He very carefully leans down and presses his lips over the deepest of the wounds. Thor bends at the waist and drapes his body over the wide expanse of his back.

Aye," Thor says. "You have my word."

*

It matters not, if Loki lies to him. If he disappears yet again and uses Thor's injury and the villagers' fears to keep him prisoner in their room. When Loki is gone Thor hobbles around and does exercises to regain his strength. Malin tells him, with some cheer, that the wolf's hunger has momentarily ceased.

"Do you truly believe Malik is in Valhalla," she asks one evening.

"Aye," Thor replies. He takes her hand into his. "I require your assistance."

Malin resists, shakes her head and asks, "Why," barely above a whisper.

"Trust me," Thor says, and she does. Returns in the evening with a crudely drawn, yet sufficient map that she presses into Thor's hand before she flees. Thor hides the map before Loki returns, folds and lays it under Mjolnir.

Loki's eyes are wary, but he is too distracted to do more than examine Thor's wound and say, in a voice free of emotion, "It heals well."

"Aye." He puts his hand to Loki's cheek, and Loki turns his face into it. "I wish the truth came easier to you."

Loki's only response is to push Thor down into the bed and drag his nightclothes up to his chest, laying him bare. Thor spreads his thighs apart willingly and remains silent, even when Loki bears down upon him with eyes dark and unseeing, even when his fingers bruise Thor's hips. He asks his questions against Loki's palm instead, clamped down over his mouth as he shivers. Receives no answer, as expected.

Thor uses the door this time, once he has determined that Loki is asleep. His face reverts to youth in sleep, unburdened by pain. It is an echo of someome else, when neither of them were yet gods, and only promise lay ahead of them. Thor kisses him softly on the cheek before he leaves, heads out into the forest with far more purpose than previously.

For every monster must have a lair.

The entrance to the cave is dark, the forest surrounding it silent. Not even a bird rustles in the trees. They must have fled, as all living creatures do, from darkness and misery.

He stands outside of the cave too long. A moment, or many. Heavy feet come up behind him, the purposeful march of men with fear in their hearts and the monster within their grasp. Thor turns, and is not surprised to see Loki at the head of them.

"It is her," Loki says, pointing an enraged finger. "She bewitched me, trapped me under her spell. She cavorts with the wolf, and it feeds her blood lust in return."

Witch. Harlot. Temptress. Demoness.

It is easy, for a crowd already incensed by fear, by rumors so carefully crafted by a master of deceit. Thor glances behind him. The cave is still silent. The monster isn't there. "I do not wish to hurt you," Thor says. "Please."

There is a glimmer of regret on his brother's face before they attack. Or perhaps there is none at all, and Thor only wishes it, like he wishes so many things that are not true.

*

Thor escapes from the crowd only with difficulty. Loki is the one that has control over this body, his body, for Thor trusted him with it, fool that he was once again. He does not harm the men: they are scared, and scared men are always easily led astray.

No, he will reserve his rage for the one that deserves it the most. There is thunder in the distance, but no lightning, no rain. Thor runs and runs, his cloak billowing behind him and the hood falling off his head. Instinct guides him, and knowlege of his brother's habits.

He finds him at the edge of the forest, kneeling at the feet of the wolf. The creature is as massive as he had expected, black as night and eyes bright green. Its mother's eyes. Beautiful, as Loki is. Not Fenrir, no. His sibling, perhaps. The beast takes two steps forward, and Thor hastens his run, uncertain if Loki is in danger or if Loki -

He cannot fathom a reason, but then Loki has always kept his secrets, and Thor could only try to understand.

And then, as the creature bows its head and Loki takes it into his hands and presses his face into its fur, he understands.

Thor lowers his hand.

"You do not belong here," Loki turns his head and snarls at Thor. "Leave or I will set her upon you, allow her to eat your heart. I will eat your heart myself."

"You told me all your children were dead."

"They were." He rests his head once again to the side of the creature's face, far too close to its sharp, sharp teeth. "I watched them - they were not made to survive, not these ones."

"Loki, she is mad."

"Of course she is mad," Loki says. "She is my daughter. Do you not understand, Thor? She survived. Fate decreed that she would die, and yet here she stands, defiant against all that would see her dead. Tell me you understand."

"I understand that she is mad. Come away from her."

"I will not." Loki stands, a shimmering force lighting him from within. It does not matter: Thor only needs the one strike, if the beast cannot control herself.

Loki croons softly then, in a voice Thor has heard rarely. A while ago. But the creature has started to shake, baring its teeth and jerking away from Loki's touch.

"Loki," Thor says, moving closer and readying Mjolnir. "Loki, come away."

"No," Loki says. He flinches away from Thor's extended hand and growls. "I knew you would kill her, I knew it. It is what you do best, after all. But I will not let you harm her. I went to the dwarves, they crafted me a chain to bind her until the madness passes. It will pass. The chain will keep us from harm. See?"

"Aye." There is a chain, shimmering silver, around the beast's neck. It will not hold.

Loki rises to his feet, snarls. "She will grow up strong, and then you'll understand fear, Odinson. Even you will not able to defeat her. I will bring all of you down."

"Loki, please. Brother." The creature, Loki's daughter, Thor's kin, rears back onto its hind legs.

Loki continues, unseeing. "She deserves to live as much as we do. A few mortal lives are worth nothing. She brings change."

Thor, too, cannot see, his vision blurred with tears.

The creature, Loki's daughter, Thor's kin, launches itself at Loki's neck.

The chain does not hold, and Thor - Thor he does not hesitate.

Loki's daughter. Thor's kin.

She launches herself at Loki, and Thor is ready.

*

Loki weeps.

"I am sorry," Thor says, and weeps for more than the death of his kin, weeps for more than his brother's inconsolable grief. "We will send her home in Asgard," he says. "She deserves as much."

"Do you think I care about whatever consolation you have to offer? What have you done?" Thor cannot bear to look at him, yet he cannot shut out the anguish in Loki's voice.

"She is at peace now."

"And leaves the rest of us to suffer." He wipes furiously at his cheeks. "And you get to act the hero, yet again, while I -"

"You make your own fate, Loki. Her death does not change that."

Loki merely shakes his head, and staggers to his feet. "I will never forgive you. You will remember this day as you lie dying by my hands. Mark my words, brother."

"It is grief that -"

"This is me," Loki spits. "This has always been me. And you have always been you. You have always taken what was rightfully mine, always."

"Aye, Loki," Thor says, too weary to argue. His skin is too tight, this body too small to house his sorrow. "We should return home. Bury her."

Loki merely crouches back down next to the body. He touches it, and they both shimmer, disappear into nothingness.

Thor is alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a single line extra for **washing/cleaning** , **rough body play** , **ageplay** , **danger** and **wet messy dirty**.
> 
> Now with [deceptively cheerful art](http://under-base.tumblr.com/post/62438760729/) by under-base. \o/


End file.
